Page 72 of Wild Promise

“Melina, I need to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me.”

My hands gripped the edge of my desk. “Of course.”

“Are you in a relationship with Zane Alexander?”

Every prepared denial, every carefully constructed excuse, died on my tongue. Because he’d just heard me say Zane was fun in bed. There was no walking that back.

“It’s…it’s not what you think.”

“What I think,” he said carefully, “is that Zane Alexander came to see me about your promotion. And now I’m learning that you two are personally involved.” He paused, letting the silence do its work. “You can see how that looks.”

The floor tilted under me.

Zane had gone to Wyatt. About my promotion. Behind my back.

“An Alexander family member involving himself in his girlfriend’s promotion is a conflict of interest, Melina. Whether you intended it or not.”

His girlfriend. The word should have made me warm. Instead, it made me nauseous.

“I came here to tell you we were putting the promotion in writing. But now I need to think about this.” He exhaled sharply. “Because if this gets out—if anyone connects the dots—it undermines everything. Your credibility. The department’s credibility. Mine.”

“I understand,” I managed, my voice barely holding.

“I need you to understand what’s at stake. Never mind the fraternization policy. If the perception is that your promotion came through the Alexander family rather than your own merit, I can’t move forward with it. And that’s not something either of us wants.”

He gave me a brief, professional nod. “Think about it. We’ll talk again after the event.”

Then he left.

The office was silent.

I lowered myself into my chair because my legs wouldn’t hold me anymore. My hands gripped the armrests, knuckles white, and I replayed every word until the full weight of it crushed me.

I replayed my morning with Zane and his reaction when I’d told him how the promotion had been offered but wasn’t yet official. The way his fingers had clenched in my hair. The flash of something dangerous in his eyes.

I’d thought it was a protective instinct. That he was simply angry on my behalf. Now it felt like a setup.

All the confidence he’d instilled in me—the encouragement and talk about perseverance—soured in my stomach. He’d told me he believed in me, supported me, and would never interfere.

But he had. He’d gone to my boss and used his name to push my promotion through. And now my entire career was in jeopardy because of it.

The same man I’d spent a year telling myself I couldn’t afford to be associated with.

And I’d been right.

Damn him.

The flame he’d ignited in me flickered, sputtered, and went dark. And what replaced it was a hollow, aching burn that had nothing to do with love and everything to do with the pain he’d inflicted. The wreckage he’d left behind.

And maybe that was the worst part.

Not the anger. Not even the betrayal. But the grief of losing something I’d barely allowed myself to believe in. The future I’d started to imagine evaporated. And in its place was the same cold, familiar loneliness I’d been carrying since the night my mother died.

I’d let him in. I’d trusted him. And for what?

Confused and miserable, I forced my lips to form a smile and gathered my things. I had a dance to run tomorrow, and falling apart tonight wasn’t an option.

So I wouldn’t. I’d lock this away the same way I locked away everything else behind the frosty exterior everyone expected from the ice queen. And I’d deal with it later.